


Murder of the Imaginary Variety

by thedarkpoet



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Murder Mystery, Science Fiction, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkpoet/pseuds/thedarkpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When CEO Pike Russell hears of a disaster on company property, he rushes to remedy the situation. But since the company property in question is located in the highly controlled imaginary space owned by Pike's company, answers are few and far between. The source of the attack must be resolved before it happens again - and before Pike's secret is out for good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Pike Russell, CEO of Sarin Industries, got the call around 13h universal time. His trip to Europa had truly scrambled his sleep schedule, but he was a professional and stumbled from bed directly into a simsuit. A hop, skip and jump later (that activpassword, clocking in at 3 weeks, had remained secure longer than any he’d chosen to date) he shifted into imaginary space. His chin tingled as the hairs of his white beard lifted and separated, and his nose went numb. He kept his eyes screwed shut and took a few blind steps until the air felt less electric.

He was in a replica of his bedroom, sans the pawed through valise and wine stain on the wall to wall carpeting. The bed was made, the duvet uncreased. 

He took a moment to straighten his suit and run a comb through his static-billowed hair and strode purposefully from the room. He’d never found time to model the rest of his apartment, so the polished wooden door let him out on to a broad thoroughfare with enough flashing lights to rival the Las Vegas strip. The most recent in his interminable stream of assistants was sitting on the curb, poring over photos of the rest of Pike’s rooms with a glum expression.

“Morning Clancy,” Pike said. 

“It’s Rogers, sir,” the assistant said. His shock of red hair was retreating from his forehead and his eyes were ringed with dark exhaustion. Pike felt a twinge of guilt and stomped on it with the entire force of his iron will.

“Would you like the reports now, or on the way?” Rogers asked. “I’ve asked Fabrication for a car.”

“Cancel the car,” Pike said firmly. “We’re scheduled for clement weather, and I’d like to walk.”

Rogers swayed to his feet and used the sleeve of his heavy overcoat to cover a yawn. Without waiting to see if he followed, Pike swung around and took the road at a brisk walk. Vehicles whizzed past, bending subtly aside in the force of Pike’s corporate protective field. Rogers was not so lucky and shuddered as a horse and carriage passed through him in a ghostly explosion of particles.

“Report,” Pike said, conjuring a walking stick out the air and using it to mark the ground before him with a fiery brand.

“We’re up on the Asian continent and Mars,” Rogers said promptly, tiptoeing around the rings of fire Pike was leaving in his wake. “Others holding more or less steady. Way down for anything lunar, but that’s hardly a surprise, what with the strikes in the Physics department.”

“I wanted a report on why I had been summoned so unceremoniously, Roberts,” Pike said. “It seemed quite urgent.” He tapped the cane twice and it began spitting bubbles. He frowned and tossed it aside, and it burst into sparks with a loud snapping sound.

Rogers didn’t bother to correct his name again, instead shuffling through his priority board in search of any such summons.

“Sir, I don’t see-”

“Well then find me someone who does,” Pike said, lengthening his stride. He heard the politeness buzz to life, an annoying hum that indicated that someone nearby was on the phone. The sound couldn’t quite disguise the urgent tone of Rogers’ voice. Pike smiled into the sun, which was just cresting the rim of the hill before him. His imspace watch gave the time as 5:30, the temperature as a crisp 16 degrees Celsius. It was nearly always morning in this particular sphere of Pike’s control, and he liked the way it made him feel alive. Population hadn’t quite mastered the animal models yet - they still tended to reside in the uncanny valley, with their huge shining eyes and poorly textured fur, but Pike hoped to incorporate songbirds into his slice of imspace soon. The politeness wasn’t much of substitute, and the undertone of Rogers desperation was beginning to grate on his nerves.

They’d made their way past the strip and into the rolling fields beyond when the politeness snapped off with a pop unpleasantly like lips smacked together.

“The call came in from Security,” Rogers said, launching into an explanation before the phantom buzzing had faded from Pike’s ears. “Two hours ago, a temp monitoring a routine tour picked up a spike in the VI’s activity. Aside from an being forced to field an unusual amount of questions, there didn’t seem to be any external problems, but the VI kept malfunctioning and she had to send a kill signal. She was filling out the paperwork when there was an explosion in the lab where the VI was giving the tour. It took out one of our major Physics branches and immolated the onsite Library. Shelby was the board member on duty and decided to call you in.”

Pike was frowning, trying to work out the implications of the explosion. “Which lab?”

“Beta nine,” Rogers replied, and Pike swallowed hard. 

“Media?” he asked, fighting the quaver that wanted to creep into his voice.

“Nothing official,” Rogers said. Or I’d have known when you asked, you horrible old man, he thought. “Word must be out though, we’re dropping in all regions.”

“Stocks, polls or usages stats?”

“Stocks and polls for now, usage stats only falling off in peripheral markets.”

Pike was still frowning as they reached an enormous smoke spewing factory that rose sharply against the fields of grass surrounding it. The huge steel doors swung open, allowing the exodus of a dozen flightless pigeons, their wings evidently not programmed and their eyes rolling in their uncoloured heads. A harried looking lab tech dashed after them, herding them back inside with a street sweeper’s broom. Pike followed the tech as the politeness popped back on and Rogers tilted his head to better hear the caller.

Inside, the factory was a riot of colour. This was the artists’ domain, a place to put the final touches on imspace objects. The executive offices were on the floor above, and Pike had a huge plate glass window that afforded him a view of the organized chaos below. He climbed to it now, ascending the spiral staircase, dodging a student with paint on her face and arms full of cloth, then ducking to avoid a pigeon that had achieved flight. Rogers got off his call and darted into his small office, returning with a pad of paper and fistful of ballpoints.

“We’ve gathered the members in the board room,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow and smearing it with ink in the process.

“Update?” Pike asked as Rogers shouldered open the door.

“Usage stats starting to see a significant drop,” Rogers said. “They’re picketing on the Darwin orbiter.” 

“Satellite spawn,” Pike snorted, walking past the arguing board members and dropping into the armchair at the head of table.

“Shut up,” Pike said decisively, yanking on his beard. The board members restrained themselves to muttering and took their seats.

“Good,” he continued when they had all settled. “Now, will someone intelligent please tell me what’s going on.” Scowling, Rogers took his place behind Pike’s chair and yanked the lid from one of the ballpoints with unnecessary ferocity.

Marianne Shelby’s shrill voice rose above the surrounding murmur. 

“We’re still short on facts, sir,” she said, tugging nervously on her earlobe. “We’ve covered up the incident as best we could, but there are nosy people asking the wrong questions.”

“What have we got for press release?” Pike asked, turning to the media officer, Jason Stiles.

“Nothing yet,” he replied, shrugging helplessly. “What are we supposed to tell them?”

“If we don’t tell them something soon, this is going to be out of our control,” Pike said coldly. “What’s our standard story in situations like this?”

“We’ve never encountered a situation like this,” Stiles responded. “Usually we say there was a laboratory accident but-”

“Good enough,” Pike said. “Get that story out there.” Stiles rose and rushed from the room, a trail of assistants following with tablets and cups of coffee dangling from their fingers.

“There was a lab accident a few minutes before the explosion,” Shelby said, her fingers now splayed on the table in front of her. “But it was unrelated. We quarantined it immediately and only one of the onsite staff was damaged.”

“We’re absolutely sure it was unrelated?” another board member chimed in.

“Of course,” said Sarah Redfield, the security chief. “All the labs have preprogrammed emergency protocols. The accident was sealed in a bubble and the injured scientist was kicked from imspace. I understand that Medical is working on restoring her component code as we speak.”

“Do we know what did cause the explosion then?” Pike asked.

Redfield shook her head immediately. “My team is looking into it, but the blast zone is a complete wreck - holes in the fabric all over the place. We think it was linked to one of the ongoing tours, but we’re still exploring other options.”

“It was just a standard tour for a potential employee,” the PR chief said, sounding more than a little sullen.

“But why was a potential employee being given a tour in lab Beta Nine? That’s private sector, and confidential work at that,” Pike said, massaging his temples against the headache he could feel growing in his skull.

“It must have been a mistake,” Rogers said, looking up from his much scribbled upon notepad. “In the last three hours, over three thousand applicants were processed, but none were aiming for private sector work.”

It can’t have been a mistake, Pike thought. There’s no such thing in imspace. Everything here is controlled.

Everyone, section chiefs and board members alike, was watching him, and he sighed.

“Do we have any record of this alleged tour?” he asked finally.

“We have the VI’s voice record,” Redfield replied. “But the applicant didn’t sign the customer service waiver, so we’re missing half of the conversation.”

The brushed steel doors swung open to admit a tall young woman towing an old fashioned plastic slide projector on a wheeled cart. She brushed her messy black bangs out of her dark eyes and tried for a smile that quickly faded in the face of the stony glares in the room. Without a word, she gave the projector a sharp kick and it whirred to life. Rather than project an image, tinny recorded began to echo in the silent board room.


	2. Chapter 2: And A VI For Your Trouble

Hello there!  
Welcome to Laboratory Beta Nine!  
Are we glad to see you!  
I’m Kita, your virtual intelligence guide to the lab. Please feel free to stop me at any point along the tour if you should have questions, or a medical emergency!  
Please note that Sarin and associated industries are not responsible for any injuries or deaths that may occur on site at this time! If you would like to lodge a complaint about an injury or death, please stop by our Personnel and Public Relations office after the tour!  
Let’s get started!  
*Whir  
My files tell me that you’re a prospective applicant to Sarin! That’s just fantastic! Do you know which department you’ll be applying to?  
*Pause  
That’s great! I’m sure you’ll love it here at Sarin!  
Since you’re looking to join our family, I’ll tell you a little of the history while you pull on your hazmat suit. You’ll find it in the clean room! Don’t worry! Even though my human shell can’t follow you into the clean room, I’ll be with you over the speakers for this part of the tour!  
Sarin Industries is an old and well established company! We’ve been helping out humans on Earth for as long as there’s been humans!  
Well of course, that’s a teeny little exaggeration! In fact, a gentleman named Robert Lutton was the founder of Sarin Industries, all the way back in 2386. I know! It’s so long ago now!  
I’ll bet you didn’t know that Sarin Industries actually started out as a tuna fish replication factory on Main Street! It’s true! If you’ve never had replicated tuna fish, it’s a little like swallowing your own tongue!  
*Pause  
I’m sorry about that! I don’t know what’s gotten into me today. My tech team are hard at work trying to find out if I’ve been infected by one of those pesky viruses! Would you like to postpone your tour and receive a complimentary Sarin Industries Replicated Tuna Sandwich?  
*Pause  
Well, if you’re sure! It looks like you’re all strapped into that suit! This gentleman is Pierre! He’s going to check over your suit for a moment! Do you have any questions while we wait?  
*Pause  
I’m sorry, I have been directed to refrain from answering that question by my Morality and Controversial Ethics subroutine. Perhaps you could ask one of the many Sarin executives we will meet on our exciting tour!  
Pierre is giving me a finger signal! Looks like we’re ready to go! Let me open the doors for you!  
*Extended Pause  
It’s amazing, right! This huge room used to be the factory floor! That’s right! Sarin Industries still occupies its original space. When Mr. Lutton made his discovery, he bought up all the surrounding over-space to expand his factory! The room before us used to be filled with assembly lines! As you can see, this room is now our main research lab! All these people in lab coats are scientists!  
You look like you have a question!  
*Pause  
I’m sorry, I have been directed to refrain from answering that question by my Confidentiality and Privacy directive! All but a few of our projects are classified!  
Allow me to-  
*Pause  
I’m sorry, I have been directed to refrain from answering that question by my Morality and Controversial Ethics subroutine. Sarin Industries requests that you refrain from using lewd, suggestive or offensive language when interacting with their virtual interfaces!  
Allow my body to lead you to Dr Felicity Mataera! She has been working on one of our more popular projects! Dr Mataera is doing research into nuclear fusion! That’s right, the same stuff that powers our sun! You may know that humans mastered nuclear fission hundreds of years ago! But nuclear fusion, fusing two atoms together, has been much more elusive! Dr Mataera is using MACHO arrays and a beam of neutrinos to power her reactions! It looks like she’s about to demonstrate now!  
*Extended Pause  
That’s a terrible shame! Dr Mataera was one of our most promising researchers! Fortunately, her research notes, along with all of Sarin’s patents and contracts, are housed in secure off site servers!  
*Pause  
I’m sorry, I have been directed to refrain from answering that question by my Confidentiality and Privacy directive! I am unable to disclose the location of our secure servers! Otherwise they wouldn’t be very secure!  
Woah! My scans have just picked up some pretty bad news! It looks like you may be carrying an unauthorized device! Please hold still while Pierre checks you out!  
As you can see we take security very seriously here at Sarin Industries!  
*Pause  
Sarin Industries reminds you to refrain from using lewd, suggestive or offensive language when interacting with their virtual interfaces! Pierre is just trying to be thorough with his search!  
It looks like we’ve been cleared to move on! It seems there was some leftover radiation from Dr Mataera’s experiment! Sorry about that! Let’s continue!  
Watch your head!  
That’s right! We’ve moved into the Physics department! All the items you see here can be yours in physical form for a very reasonable price! That thing that just flew by your head was a hoverboard!  
*Pause  
That’s a great question! Making the transformation from imaginary into real space is definitely not easy! Our specialists in the Physics department work hard to meet consumer needs. Sarin Industries never comes up empty! Unfortunately, the exact process falls under the bounds of my Confidentiality and Privacy directive! I’m sure you’ll get a chance to learn about how all of this works when you begin working for Sarin!  
*Pause  
I’m sorry, my conversation logs have you listed as a potential applicant!  
*Pause  
Oh, don’t worry! Sarin Industries is very accommodating! If Dr Mataera is able to return, she will be hired preferentially over other applicants! She did amazing work!  
It looks like Dr Chris Trid is ready to talk to us now! Dr Trid is our outreach coordinator for the Physics department! He’ll be happy to answer your questions and give you a tour of his department as well as the adjoining Library and History departments!  
*Long Silence  
Did you enjoy the tour with Dr. Trid? He is one of our most successful coordinators - he can manipulate imaginary physics like nobody’s business! Dr. Trid is responsible for my programming and appearance in imaginary space!  
*Pause  
Your opinion of my interfacing capabilities will be relayed to our customer support department as soon as possible! You can see those busy worker bees from here!  
*Pause  
You’re absolutely right! It is that apparently unmanned station under the ventilation shafts in the far corner! Don’t worry, Sarin Industries is dedicated to processing customer feedback! But of course, you won’t be a customer for long! Because you’ll be one of us! One of us! One of of of of -  
Sorry about that! I don’t know whats gotten into my wiring today!  
Let’s continue our tour!  
*Pause  
Sarin Industries reminds you that a tour is a mandatory part of employee initiation, and must be undergone as specified on the legal attachment to your application!  
*Pause  
The tour is only another hour long! But we’ve got lots to cover!  
Let’s head over to executive offices! They’re all the way up on the top floor! Don’t worry, there’s an elevator!  
*Pause  
My, its cozy in here, isn’t it! Good thing we’re in imaginary space! Here, we can develop without the restraints faced by our manufacturers in real space! That’s why our revolutionizing conversion routine is so important!  
*Pause  
Sarin Industries reminds you to refrain from using lewd, suggestive or offensive language when interacting with their virt-  
*Static


End file.
